The South Side
by AoiLegend
Summary: An 18 yr old Neal works for the FBI on some intriguing cases, one of which ends up with him in grave danger, another involves dealing with a murderous thief who also happens to be a Caffrey fan, but the most breathtaking of all involves the circumstances surrounding his mother. Has Peter/Neal father/son relationship as well as a bit of Neal whump
1. Operation Inception

**Hello, I'm just another White Collar fan playing with the beautiful story made by Jeff Eastin. This will be my first ever fanfic story and I'm super nervous and would really appreciate some reviews whether you are loving on my story or giving me constructive criticism. I would love any kind of help readers could give me, and if you like the story please encourage me to continue it because if I don't get feedback then I probably won't have the motivation to continue writing :(**

**So my story is going to center around an 18 year old Neal and the history doesn't deviate much besides that Kate was the same age as young Neal, and his relationship with Sara never happened :/ As much as I love Sarah and Neal together (not a big fan of his season 5 relationship) her role as an agent for Sterling Bosch is more important, and I don't think an 18 year old could work as an insurance investigator... Neal's case is a little different. My story will include FBI cases along with developing the father/son relationship between Neal and Peter. However it won't be cheesy and both character's portrayals will remain as close to the original series as possible. And there may be a little Neal whump... **

So what happens when an operation goes south? Silver tongue Caffrey can't always charm himself out of trouble, especially when the FBI agent, Peter Burke, was the one to blow his cover.

Case Scenario: Mrs. and Mr. Stanton organized to have a case event to show off their recently acquired, precious painite gem along with Mrs. Stanton's many other precious jewelry collections. Although the presented purpose of the event was to be a charity fundraiser, Mrs. Stanton's hidden motive was probably to boast about her extremely rare gem from Myanmar. Unfortunately the advertising attracted undesired attention from a thief known as the Bishop, who was even so bold as to send a warning card in the mail. On the morning of November 1st, four days before the show, the Stanton's received a small white business card with the message "Pretty amber painite, will be mine 5th's night," signed by the Bishop. And in turn, that's where the White Collar division comes in.

The eighteen year old Neal was more than amused with Peter's masterful presentation on the most recent case they had received, but his main interest stemmed from the eccentric character of the Bishop. He leaned back into the chair with his hands tucked smugly behind his head. A wild grin hung on his face.

"Neal, since you're having so much fun with this, why don't give us your input of expertise on the Bishop. Have you ever heard of him?" Peter prodded at the kid in a candy store. His face twisted into an expression of half proud, half bothered that his CI was so excited to delve into a threat on a high profile gem.

The young man's grin grew larger, if that was even possible, and his bright blue eyes sparkled at the adventurous op he was already planning in his head. "Well the Bishop is definitely a notable character," he began, "I have heard of him through my not-so-noble connections underground, but he mostly pulls foreign jobs, and only a few that were big. His warning ahead of time indicates that he's looking for more of a game than a big score; it's like he's upping the difficulty level of a video game. Before, since it was a simple charity casing, the security would be less pronounced and mostly just hired guards, but now it's almost as if he wanted higher stakes," the melodious voice mused. "His personality definitely tends towards eccentric with his cryptic message left on the card. He couldn't just come out and say that he was gonna steal the gem the night of the show, instead he had to pull a Yoda and make it sound poetic," Neal finished his profiling and returned to his slouch position quite pleased with himself.

"So why would he want tighter security? I don't understand, who in their right mind would want to make their theft harder," Diana questioned suspiciously. Neal answered with a shrug.

"What if he needed extra security to pull of his plan? Like having law enforcement there would open some kind of window that wasn't there originally?" Jones stabbed with an unsure face. He didn't actually believe there was a chance it could be true; he was just tossing suggestions.

Peter shook his head deep in thought. Meanwhile Neal was trying to telepathically send him a plan, an inception if you will. The senior agent's head looked to Neal as if he was on the verge of an idea, "Neal, how would you pull this off, a way that would work better if there were FBI agents guarding the event as well?"

The young con man bit his lip sexily while he figured their point of entry. Why would you want FBI present while pulling a heist? On top of the private guards… the Stanton's wouldn't personally know the FBI agents on guard! Neal's face lit up like Christmas lights in December as he opened his mouth to share his epiphany. "What if he planned to use an inside out man?" At that phrase Peter sent Neal a confused glare and Neal took it as a need to explain further, "I'd leave it at an inside man, but it's not; it's someone that is much easier to plant. Because the Stanton's won't personally know all the FBI agents on detail, they wouldn't notice if someone slipped in as a fake agent. If it were my heist, I would have a decoy man approach the exhibit, whether it made of glass or not, and tamper with it in some way to set off the alarm but leave the gem there and run…" Neal trailed toward the end purposely leaving a gap for Peter to jump in and finish the scenario.

An understanding dawned on the charismatic division leader as he finished the ploy, "That's when the fake FBI agent goes to check on the gem and switches it with a fake," he smirked with an heir of victory around him. The Peter and Neal team had figured it out again. Neal let a string of silence hang in the air as he waited for his inception to surface.

"So where is our point of entry to foil this heist?" Jones inquired.

An idea tugged the corners of Diana's mouth into a smile, "The Bishop's gonna need someone who is able to masterly forge a rare gem," she spoke with a suggestive glance at Caffrey. Neal smiled slyly as a masterful forger and conman would.

"And even if the Bishop has already found a forger, we've got one who's better," Peter declared finishing the deal. Neal felt as if he had just won the jackpot; this was another chance to play his favorite game but still be on the good side. "Alright, Neal you work on finding a way into his crew and we will set you up with an alias."

"Already on it," the kid said proudly as he sent a quick text to Mozzie. At the time this had seemed like a simple, harmless operation. Easy in, easy out. But there was more to the Bishop than what was deducible from the card. If only Neal hadn't been so presumptuous...

**And that concludes my tiny first chapter; most will be longer but this is just the set up for the very beginning so I didn't want to spend too much time on it. If you are a fan that pays attention to the details, like I am, you will have noticed that the plan for stealing the gem is more than coincidentally similar to Gordon Taylor's baseball heist... and I don't take credit for it so don't sue me ;) But I hope you enjoyed reading and I would appreciate reviews! Thanks!**


	2. Commence the Heist

**Another rather short chapter, but it followed very quick so that should make up for it :) Thankyou for any of the reviews I get! I was rather surprised to get my first review and it just motivated me to throw out another chapter! Enjoy.**

It was the morning before the heist and Seth Greenwood, a.k.a Neal Caffrey, had finished his perfectly forged painite gem and was ready for action. Peter had burned the Bishop's forger by having obvious Feds stake out his house and place of work making sure the Bishop, now discovered to be River Aglet, would not be interested in his service anymore. Then, conveniently, Seth Greenwood had stepped up to fill in the previous forger's shoes so that the heist could continue without a hitch. The alias had an exemplary record: forged bonds, paintings and gems, with that unusual resume the hiring process went along quite smoothly.

Neal and Peter were walking along the street headed towards the surveillance van outside the Stanton's mansion. For this op Caffrey's anklet needed to be off and Peter had many reasonable worries. "Now Neal, promise me you won't do anything stupid or off the beaten path? Only what we planned, okay?" he asked with precaution and waited for the young man's promise.

A tiny smirk appeared on the kid's face as he rolled his eyes in a teasing way, "Yes Peter, I promise. I don't understand why you're so worried though, it's not like I'm a rash, unpredictable teenager."

Peter let out a coarse laugh, "Oh and you always follow the rules to a T as well," he added with a snort. The older man shook his head; Neal really was a good kid, just a little misguided. His intentions were good, but his methods were another story. Despite his many disapprovals of the young conman, he was very proud of him, though he would never admit it.

"Oh but you must admit, I am very good at following rules," Neal continued with a spring in his step. His facial expression genuinely portrayed his feelings: a joyful look hung in his azure crystal eyes. Never mind being caught or put on a tracking anklet, the kid who was so used to running finally felt like he belonged. He could walk side by side, not to mention the same side, with the man he respected most. Peter was a role model and a father figure to the struggling Neal, although he would never admit it.

"The only thing you're good at that involves following rules is finding the loop holes in them. I tell you to not step a foot outside a room, you walk on your hands to Alaska," Peter retorted.

"It's not my fault you don't give specific enough directions. Maybe if you could work on your crafting you would find a way to leave out any loop holes," Neal countered jokingly.

Peter's mouth twisted in disdain; he could never win against Neal's silver tongue. "Alright, that's enough, let's get in the van and suit up." By now they had reached the inconspicuous surveillance van and Peter climbed in first with Neal following.

After removing the anklet and equipping the audio recording watch, Neal and Peter joined the show casing on the top floor of the Stanton's elegant home. The charity event turned out to be more like an aristocratic party with banquet tables of prestigious cuisine and hors d'oeuvres. Beautiful chestnut wood columns adorned the edges of the room along with ornate glass display cases positioned on walls or on open floor stands. The dress attire was very formal: girls in long gowns and guys in suits. Of course the Suits fit right in.

Neal strode over to the bar area while he waited for the heist to commence. His part in all of this was the fake FBI agent making the swap. Originally his part was limited to the forging only, but after a showy display of his stealthy skills, the swap man was passed up and relegated to play the part of the decoy. Once he was given the signal by River, he would go change into the Fed jacket and arrive after the decoy. In the meantime, he might as well enjoy the fine party.

He leaned an arm on the bar counter and asked the tender for a glass of wine, but before he could take the glass Peter swooped in to intercept it. "Nope, sorry kid, you're under aged," he said with a grin. He took pleasure in denying Neal something since Neal had always gotten his way.

Neal groaned, "Peter come on, my alias is twenty-three! It's to help my cover story, having a drink helps me fit in." He flashed a smile and raised his eyebrows hoping that Peter gave in. Instead he pursed his lips and set the glass back on the counter.

"Neal, you're on the job, even I won't have a beer. Just suck it up and don't break anymore laws than you have to," he spoke with authority has he gave Neal a pat on the back. Neal returned him a flabbergasted look. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I can't believe we are at a high-end event and you would settle for a measly beer out of all the exquisite wines they have!" Neal said convicted passion. Peter couldn't tell if he was joking or actually serous. But before he could confirm, Neal's pant leg vibrated. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and saw a text from the Bishop: "Commence the heist" it read. Again with the fancy language; he couldn't just be a casual thief.

**Oh the fun begins! Some serious action will be following in the next chapter, and I promise it will be much longer.**


	3. Double Agent

**Thank you to all the wonderful reviews I received for my first two chapters. The support combined with the story already planned out in my head helped me get out another quick chapter. This one is longer too, enjoy!**

On his way to switch into the FBI jacket, Neal stopped by the painite exhibit and examined the beautiful gem. The one he had welded looked like an exact replica to the amber crystal. The gem sparkled with golden flecks intertwined with a florid backdrop; the tear-drop hexagonal cut complimented the vivid colors well. But there was no time to dawdle since a glance to Neal's left showed that the decoy was on his way over to cause some trouble. Neal slipped away into the bathroom he had previously stashed the uniform in and transformed himself into a full blown federal agent. He even had a badge with his picture, courtesy of himself of course. No way would Peter have entrusted Neal with such a dangerous toy, so the mischievous consultant forged one himself.

A blaring alarm was his cue as he figured the decoy had tried to lift the display glass from the painite. He ran from the restroom and joined behind the hoard of agents running in response to the breach. As they entered the room, the perpetrator made sure that he caught the FBI's attention and bolted out of the other exit as to give Neal the opportunity for the switch. Meanwhile Peter was staked out at the drop off site in the alley next to the mansion; that was where Neal had arranged to hand the stolen gem to River.

The disguised fed approached the glass case which had now drawn the attention of the Stanton's personal security and staff. "Excuse me, let me through, I need to examine the stone," Neal said with authority accompanied with the flash of his forged credentials. He had the forged gem tucked in his pinky, ring and middle fingers while he picked up the authentic gem with his thumb and index finger. After holding it up to his eye pretending to examine it, he went to gently place the stone back on the display stand but discretely switched the real gems position with the fake. The real gem found its way to the fold of his captive fingers while the forgery was placed in plain sight. The guards looked to Caffrey anxiously as they awaited his verdict: "That's the real gem for sure and nothing seems to be amiss," he assured them with a devilishly handsome smile. A look of relief fell across the staffs' faces.

The sly conman sauntered out of the room surely enjoying the rush given from the deception. He pretended as if he were going to check back in with FBI personnel; however, he was really going to meet River the Bishop to hand off the incriminating evidence. Deep down, the young man secretly craved the approval of the special agent. He knew that as soon as the FBI busted the Bishop, Peter's appreciation would wash over him giving him worth and a feeling of pride. A feeling of belonging, this was Neal's home and he was irreplaceable.

A satisfied smile clung to the young man's face as he made his way to the exchange site located in the alley, but before he could exit through the side of the building, an arm pulled him back. He whirled around to see River with a firm grip and a cocky smile, "Not so fast Seth, I decided to change the location to reconvene. You know, just for extra precautions." To Neal it seemed as if those golden eyes twinkled with deception and an uneasy feeling consumed the fake twenty-three year old. The older man, around late thirties, let Neal's arm drop and motioned with his fingers for the kid to follow as he led him out the back entrance. Through the doors of the escape Neal saw a getaway van already in place. This was not good; not what they had planned. At this rate, Peter and the feds were staked out by the side entrance, there was probably even a decoy van pretending to wait for the elusive criminals, so they wouldn't even notice the change in plans. The C.I could only hope that his partner caught on to the minute detail that they should have been out by now. "You've obtained the painite right, Seth? Then board the van and we shall appraise our plunder and celebrate our job well done," he spoke smoothly with the aid of a crooked smile. Even his manner of speaking was quirkily eloquent.

Neal's placid face on the outside held no resemblance to the turmoil he was feeling on the inside. His brain was running a mile per minute to figure out why the plan had switched and what he could do to get the op back on track. But with a reassuring fake grin, he climbed into the van and River followed after shutting the door. Not a second after they had got in, the driver took off. The criminals were lucky too since by then the sharp witted Agent Burke had caught on to the plot twist.

"Seth, the gem please?" River demanded calmly as he held out his hand. Neal, still wearing a nonchalant façade, placed the stone in the man's hand.

"Just as you planned, a perfect heist," the undercover boy said with a grin and an approving nod. He was hoping to appease to the thief's vanity just as a teacher's pet would. No matter that the meeting place had changed, he still wore the GPS watch, and soon the feds would close in.

River's face twisted into a contently evil smirk as he tucked the stone into his suit pocket. "Now hand over your watch and your cell phone," He demanded while once again holding out his hand. At the same time the Bishop did this, his accomplice pulled out a gun. Neal's suck-up smile faded at this turn of events and it was hard to mask the fluttering fear he felt welling up inside of him.

"River, what is this," the young man inquired with suspicion although he knew well what it was. He was being turned on. "My watch isn't that valuable you know," he said trying to play off the tense atmosphere. Fearing the gun pointed in his direction, Neal unclasped his watch, pulled out his cell phone and placed them both into River's awaiting hand.

River examined the watch in his hand and then dropped it on the floor in front of him following with a swift stomp of his foot. The FBI's GPS device cracked. Neal couldn't hold back a look of shock and his mouth dropped a tiny bit. "I was never really interested in the price of the watch; rather, I was interested in what the watch would cost me if it were, perhaps, sending a signal? Maybe a tracking device reporting to the FBI?" the criminal mused with contempt.

Neal held back a little gulp and instead began crafting a defense, "Now why would I, a conman and forger, want anything to do with the FBI?" The boy fretted that the worst case scenario would unfold: his cover may be burned.

River pursed his lips with malicious intent as he held up a reconnaissance photograph of "Seth" walking alongside agent Burke. The picture had been taken only a couple hours before the theft had run its course; his talk with Peter had given him away. "So Seth, if that even is your real name, why were you conversing so freely with this FBI agent?" he challenged leading Neal into a trap. "Were you planning to double cross me, or perhaps you were on their side all along? You're too young to be a legitimate special agent, but you may have worked a deal. I admit, your forgery was quite impressive; it's a shame that your alliance seems to be confused."

Neal wanted desperately for the van to be stopped right then and there, for Peter to fling open the back doors of the van and liberate the teen from the pressure of the gun aimed at his head. But nothing happened. Nothing but the beat of Caffrey's heart bursting through his chest. In a desperate attempt, he tried to play along, "You've made a huge misunderstanding; I was simply walking with him so that it would reinforce my cover later when I posed as a fed. If someone had seen us together, they might have recognized me when it came time to pull the job!" Neal defended himself but was still grasping at straws.

"Oh please, give it up kid. I saw you standing with him at the bar. Despite your charade that you weren't talking to each other, I saw him reach over and take your drink; he was stopping you from receiving your beverage. Most likely it wasn't allowed since you were on the job," he snuffed angrily. "If only you had not flipped, criminals can enjoy a nice glass of wine whenever they please," he sneered deviously.

Neal's face fell. Of course it was the wine, if only Peter had listened to him as he had pleaded. If Peter had just allowed him to enjoy the drink and blend in, then maybe his cover wouldn't have been blown. But at the same time, it felt so good that someone had stopped him. Just like a father would care for his son and not want him to get in trouble, Peter had reprimanded Neal. Strangely enough, it wasn't annoying, but rather Neal could feel Peter's concern. Although for now, Neal was going to put up the act that it was bothersome and that it was Peter's fault for blowing his cover. After all, that's what stubborn eighteen year olds do.

When the crook saw that Neal didn't have a retort, he took up an air of victory, "So tell me Seth, what's stopping me from shooting you and disposing your body over the river?" His lips curled up with that reoccurring malicious intent and his short dirty blond hair seemed to stand on end. Neal was sure he wasn't bluffing.

Neal closed his eyes trying to regain his calm. Left on 5th avenue, driving for approximately three miles, right, then one mile, right again, and four more miles: recalling the turns their driver had taken he pulled up a mental map of the city. During the study of the Bishop's heist patterns, Neal had calculated his most likely actions after getting away with the stolen goods. Surely River was headed towards a dock or small airport; he wouldn't waste time ditching his getaway van and would want to flee the city as quickly as he could.

The young dare devil took a deep breath. He desperately hoped Peter would find them soon. God knew only Peter could stop the rash boy from rolling out of the van with a bullet in his body. But Neal knew for sure he wouldn't go down without a fight.

**Oh no Neal! What's gonna happen?! Don't fear guys, the next chapter will be Peter's perspective... hopefully he can make it in time!**


	4. Stuntman

**I'd like to thank everyone so much for their reviews, it really encourages me! So another quick chapter update and I'm kind of surprised. This story is really writing itself and what I planned to happen didn't happen because the bad guys screwed it up... My own plans spoiled by my fictional villains. But luckily Neal and Peter have my back. :)**

**I've also noticed that my story has been more cut and dry and not much emotional perspective from Peter and Neal. But I promise it's on its way soon, I just have to get the circumstances set up. I don't like rushing into something sappy and lovey dovey if it's uncalled for. However, soon it will be called for. }:) mwahahaha poor Neal**

When Neal had received the text to begin the heist, that was Peter's cue to go set up outside the reconvening point. They kept their distance from the supposed getaway van and blended in perfectly. All they had to do was wait. But something seemed wrong: it shouldn't have been taking this long. Where was Neal and River? His team on the inside reported that they were releasing the decoy man, but not even he arrived at the van. The head agent radioed for his team to check inside the mansion for any signs of Caffrey or the Bishop. Nothing.

Next thing he knew, Neal's GPS watch stopped transmitting. His signal went dead. "Neeeal, where are you?!" Peter groaned in disdain. He had told him no straying from the plan, no detours, no improvising, and now he had no idea what was going on.

"Boss, an agent on the floor said he saw a van positioned outside the back of the estate," Jones reported urgently while still on the phone with the other agent.

Without any hesitation Peter and Jones ran from their position and the squad leader commanded the rest of his agents to flank both sides of the house meeting in the back. Unfortunately by the time the FBI had closed in, the real van containing Seth Greenwood and River Aglet had vanished along with the painite gem. The extremely frustrated Agent Burke stuffed his gun back into its holder, placed his hands on his hips and let out an annoyed sigh. This operation had blown up in his face and gone south.

"Diana, I want a BOLO out for a white van without windows in the back. Jones, round up a team and search the streets. Secure any escape routes out of the city, whether it's by train, boat, air or anything. Make sure to check any hideouts that River uses, warehouse or safe house," The head strong man finished giving orders and then pulled out his phone trying to reach Caffrey. Not even a ringer; it had been turned off. Although he wasn't surprised, whatever this was, Neal hadn't planned it. Now the boy's alone and probably cornered in the van, and when he's cornered, he makes bad decisions. All Peter could hope for is that his undercover kid would make it through.

Not even ten minutes had passed before Diana got a hit. "Boss, a white van was seen making a right on Paxton Street," she reported.

"That's good!" Peter said with a glimmer of hope shining through. They could still arrest the perpetrators and save Neal all in a day's work. "Jones, I need you to find all escape routes within a ten mile radius of Paxton St." Peter motioned for Diana to come with him, he didn't know where he was going yet, but he was going to get Neal.

"Already did Peter," Jones replied with a grin. "There's a marina two blocks west from the street and an airstrip that's four blocks north. Now all we gotta do is decide which one they're gonna run to."

At last a look of satisfaction appeared on Peter's face; before, all he could do was worry about what kind of trouble his C.I was in. "Great job Jones," he praised his agent. His thoughts ran through his head like a bullet train: taking a boat was quiet and had more freedom, but taking a plane was quick and easy. "Alright, Diana and I will head for the airstrip and Jones, you take a team to the marina," he decided after careful consideration. Then, they would wait like a lion in the brush.

Peter just hoped Neal was unscathed. He wondered what could've happened that the heist plans had to be changed, but he couldn't come up with anything. Step by step he had walked over their plays at the show casing, but he couldn't find anything out of place. The thing that had deviated from the plan was… Oh no. The wine. That slip was the only thing that came to mind. If it was because Neal wasn't allowed a drink of wine that his cover was blown, Peter would never hear the end of it. Not to mention, that would mean it was entirely his fault that Neal was in danger. El would kill him if he put her "precious baby" in danger. Despite that, he wasn't sure he'd want to live with himself if something happened to troublesome Caffrey. Whatever had happened, it certainly wasn't in their favor and couldn't be good.

Vibrant blue eyes flashed open. He knew where they were headed. It had to be the airstrip three blocks after Baker St. They had already passed the marina a couple blocks ago if Neal's calculations were correct. If only Peter knew the same information he had figured out! The best he could hope for is that someone spotted the van along the way and Peter could predict where they were headed. But the clever kid wasn't banking on that chance. It was time to take matters into his own hands.

Neal surveyed his surroundings careful not to glance around and instil suspicion in the wise criminal. Using only his peripheral vision while keeping his eyes on River who was straight across from him, he saw the van's doors to his left and the obvious gunman to his right. The driver was up in the front compartment with a window separating him from the back. If he could startle the gunman, he could make a dash towards the van doors and have it unlocked in a second ready to jump out. Judging from the car's movement, they couldn't have been driving over thirty miles, especially if they didn't want to draw any attention. These were city streets; speeding wouldn't work well. The tricky part was rolling out of the way of oncoming traffic; that should be fun.

As soon as he escaped, the crazy teen could grab the nearest victim's cellphone and get a quick message to Peter to ensure the felon's capture. Neal's mind was set: a quick flick of the gunman's wrist, a shove to send River off his guard, and a bolt to the door.

It was go time. Without warning he struck the flunkey's wrist and triggered a nerve to loosen his grip on the gun, and with his other hand he shoved River back into the wall of the van. Good thing the conman was ambidextrous and had no problem relegating different tasks to each hand. Immediately his young legs propelled him to the back hatch, lifted the lock opening the van doors and flew out above the road. Bang. Neal rolled out his momentum and had just enough time to scramble out of the street before the next car almost collided with his slender yet muscular frame. It had worked; he felt a good deal of pain from his stunt, probably a lot of scrapes too, but it had worked. Hopefully the Bishop wouldn't come back for him. All he needed now was to nab someone's phone; maybe a flash of his forged badge would help. But as he reached into his coat to retrieve the fake credentials, he felt something wet. The frightened boy looked down to see a large crimson stain spreading across the spot where his hand would normally be during the Pledge of Allegiance. He fell to his knees.

**Aww poor kid, hopefully Peter will get to him in time! So I really appreciate everyone who reads my story and I would appreciate even more if you could review! Encouragement, constructive criticism, even suggestions would all be welcome! And who knows, if someone gives me a suggestion that I think would work in the story, I will give them a shout out and a huge thank you! Either way, stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	5. Man Down

**So I know this chapter took longer to come out, and I left the last one off at a horrible cliff hanger... But I blame midterms! But here's an update so enjoy! :)**

A triumphant smirk ran across Peter's face. His hunch had been right and now he and a team of FBI agents had the Bishop's van surrounded. With no way for the villains to escape, he approached the back doors with his gun ready to shoot anyone that tried something mischievous. As he neared throwing open the curtains, he could only pray that he wouldn't find Neal as a hostage at gun pint. Things would be much trickier if his cover had been blown and they decided to use him as a bartering tool. But as he and Diana revealed what was behind those doors, Neal was nowhere to be found. The FBI pulled out the criminals and detained everyone in cuffs; Peter approached the Bishop, "Where is the other kid that was with you, Seth?" he demanded.

River cracked a devious grin, "You mean the guy pretending to be someone named Seth? He was one of your operatives wasn't he? I saw how you wouldn't let him drink on the job so that made me suspicious. I did away with him," he said proudly despite his wrists being twisted behind his back.

Peter mentally faced palmed. It was his fault that Neal was compromised, and now the kid could be dead in a ditch somewhere. How could he ever forgive himself? He clenched his teeth and took River by the collar, "Where is he?" Peter threatened with a low growl.

Nothing the feds did could wipe that expression of the Bishop's face, "The kid had real talent, it's unfortunate that he is probably bleeding out on the street now." Peter wanted to punch him, smack that taunting look right off of his face, but Jones, who had now arrived at the scene, placed a hand on his Boss' shoulder and shook his head. Diana took River out of Peter's reach and slammed him into the Bureau's car before throwing him inside and locking the door.

Agent Burke seethed with rage as he barked orders around in attempt of tracking Neal down. Of course he didn't have his anklet on. Peter's mind swam with worry over the boy he and El had practically adopted into their family. He hoped with all his heart that Neal was alright, but if he wasn't… Peter couldn't even fathom what his life would be like without the mischievous con-boy.

Suddenly, Peter's ring tone interrupted his train wreck of thoughts. He grabbed for his phone in his pocket and even fumbled a little due to panic, but when he brought the phone to his ear, his breath stopped short. "Peter?" Neal rasped in a small weak voice. "Corner of South Street," he managed before the line went dead.

Peter left in a frantic hurry as he just barely had time to shout to his agents where he was going. They knew without him telling them to bring an ambulance. The short drive over was a blur and the usually straight laced agent had no idea how many traffic laws he broke. When he arrived at the block, it wasn't hard to locate Neal surrounded by a crowd of people. Pushing through the crowd was a more difficult feat, but when he finally broke through, he saw his CI with his chest covered in blood. The man who had been next to the kid began speaking to Peter, something about letting the boy use his cellphone to call his friend. Peter wrapped an arm around the unconscious Neal and held him against his chest. He could hear the siren of the ambulance approaching. "Please Neal, stay with me, you're gonna be okay," he whispered. He didn't know whether or not the young man could hear him, but it was more to reassure himself. "It's gonna be okay buddy. The Bishop's been arrested, and the ambulance is here. You'll be fine, no way is a bullet gonna bring you down." Peter's voice was broken just like his heart at the site of the still figure in his arms. But without warning his heart skipped a beat, Neal's eyes cracked open and stared blankly at Peter. Peter could've imagined it, but he swore that Neal's mouth tugged into a tiny smirk, and then a small wink before Neal's eyes shut. He was sure the kid just winked at him. Peter held the boy close; he was going to be alright.

The doctor entered Caffrey's hospital room to find that Agent Burke was still sitting at his bed side. "Agent Burke," the doctor began, "you seem to be quite close to your consultant." The young male doctor in his thirties gave a warm friendly smile. "That's good; he will need someone to support him while he recovers. He's so young, and you said he lives alone?"

Peter nodded to the Doctor's question before he asked one of his own, "So how is he? What will his recovery look like?" There was a trace of anxiety in his voice. It had been an hour since Neal had arrived at the hospital and had the bullet removed, yet he still hadn't woken up.

Sensing the fatherly figure's concern the doctor answered carefully, "He will make a full recovery, in a couple weeks it'll be like it never happened. The kid was really lucky though… it missed his heart by a few centimeters; he was so lucky, it didn't even hit any arteries or his lung. For the first week it'll be painful and make doing things for himself more difficult, but after he'll be okay by himself." The doctor finished his diagnosis and instruction and then added, "After he wakes up, we will do a few more tests and then he will be good to return home. It's best that he doesn't work or do any strenuous activity for the next two weeks." With that last comment the doctor turned to leave the room.

Peter stole a look at Neal's sleeping face; he felt that Neal would be embarrassed to have the older man watch him sleep, but the boy's unconscious face was so innocent and young. How could he ever pass for twenty-three year old Seth Greenwood? Hesitantly at first, Peter ran his hand through Neal's wavy dark hair. He felt a surge of protective instinct well up inside him. Early when he had called his wonderful wife, they had decided that Neal would stay at their house for the next week and a half so they could watch over him. It didn't put it past Neal to get in trouble in his impaired state. The poor kid needed someone to take care of him whether he liked it or not; at least for now he did. The hard part would be convincing Neal to stay with them. He knew the selfless boy would refuse saying that he would just be a nuisance for the Burke's, but at the same time El was adamant about Neal staying with them and was already in Mama Bear mode. The only reason she wasn't at the hospital was because she was already getting the guest bedroom ready for Neal. The thought of the amazing woman he married brought a slight smile to Peter's face. Then his smile grew even larger as he noticed Neal's eyes flutter open.

**Yay so Neal is okay, I hope you knew I wasn't actually going to kill him ;) But this is perfect, now he gets to go live with Peter and Elizabeth! The next chapter is going to be adorable so the Peter/Neal father/son fans should be excited, but at the same time both characters will stay as true to the personalities portrayed in the show as possible.**


	6. Impaired

**This chapter was so much fun to write as it includes some great fatherly Peter scenes ;) I don't want to give many spoilers before you read, but some comments on the last couple of chapters: I made up all of the streets mentioned in the get away, and I made up the marina and airport. I forgot to mention that in the previous chapters... But enjoy reading this chapter!**

"Hey Neal," Peter spoke softly. Feelings of love and relief swelled up inside Peter and threatened to release out of his eyes, but the strong man cleared his throat and fought back the emotion. Peter's hand took hold of the boy's hand, just in case Neal's glassy eyes prevented him from seeing his friend. At least, that's what he told himself, but it was really that the kid's life and warmth encouraged Peter.

"Can't go swimming," Neal said in a tiny weak voice; still just as smooth as always though. The boy drugged on pain medicine slipped a smile to his face as he looked at the man who always had his back.

Peter's eyes twinkled with amusement as Neal has once again, without fail, put up a façade like everything was fine. His mask was so flawless. "What do you mean? It's October, of course you aren't going swimming," he replied to the delirious youth.

"Nah, I can't swim anymore," Neal said as if that cleared everything up. "There's a hole in me now, I won't float anymore." Peter couldn't help but give a chuckle at the lack of sense his C.I was making. After the final tests had been conducted, the doctor reported that Neal was fine to return home in Peter's custody. As a side effect of the pain medication, the boy would be a little out of it for a couple hours until the meds wore off. After the drugs left his system, simple pain relievers like Advil or Aleve should be administered.

Peter helped the nurse shift Caffrey from the wheel chair into the passenger's seat of the Peter's car. The ride home was sure to be interesting with a loopy teenager; it was like the young man had gotten his wisdom teeth removed and Peter was privileged to play the father enjoying the silly antics of his son. A sly thought ran through the fed's mind, "Neal, are there any crimes you've committed that I don't know about?" Peter's question was meant more as a curious joke rather than an interrogation; besides, Neal was impaired so nothing could be used against him.

Neal flashed a million dollar grin, "I definitely did not steal your wallet." Peter's mouth twisted in shame as he realized that he could feel an emptiness in his pocket. He nonchalantly held out his left hand while keeping his right one on the steering wheel as he drove. Neal playfully placed the stolen wallet into the older man's hand. The blue eyed boy jabbered on, "Peter, have you ever played Sly Cooper?" Neal's head gently rolled against the seat's headrest. Out of the corner of his eye Peter could see the kid fidgeting and had to stifle a laugh.

"No, what is Sly Cooper? Is it a con?" The fatherly figure mused playing along.

"No, yes… no, it's a charming video game about a raccoon thief," Neal's babbling made him seem so young and innocent. "I played it when I was little, I took a lot from Sly Cooper; he was like the giving tree." Peter couldn't quite make out Neal's cryptic words and figured it was just the drugs speaking. "Jorgen didn't know…" the boy muttered barely audible, Peter wasn't even sure what he had said. But all of the sudden Neal started throwing his head back into the seat over and over again. It would bounce back and forth and Neal hummed along.

Protectively, Peter reached a hand over and cradled the back of the boy's head while holding it firmly in place, "Stop that Neal, you're going to hurt yourself!" He wondered what was going on in the intelligent kid's head. Maybe the medicine had coaxed Neal's high IQ into taking a vacation. But that notion quickly flew out of Peter's head as Neal began to recite something.

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep. But Peter, I don't have many promises to keep, the ones I love leave me to weep. And now here I am to count my sheep, but yet I still cannot fall asleep." Neal's eyes were closed, and the mood had become much more somber. Concern filled Peter's heart; the first part of Neal's speech was a poem by Robert Frost he knew, but the last part was from Neal's own heart. It sounded so depressing. "Peter, I'm cold," the quiet voice spoke as expectant blue orbs rested on Peter. It was a plea for help.

Peter looked toward Neal with a pained expression on his face, "As soon as we get home I'm sure El wouldn't mind swaddling you with blankets." His heart ached and he longed to comfort Neal who was suddenly being open with his feelings. No doubt it was the drug's doing, but still. The agent wondered what had triggered Neal's dismal thoughts; was he suddenly reliving Ellen's death? Or maybe the moment when Neal's father had betrayed him? Regretfully though, Peter didn't seize the chance. Instead he switched the conversation to something more positive in order to raise both of their spirits, "Neal I just want you to know, I was really proud of you today. Despite the plans changing, we caught the bad guys and you made it out okay, even if you took a bullet to your chest." Thinking about the near tragedy brought the mood down again. "Neal, you were so lucky. The bullet just barely missed your heart," Peter said gently.

Surprisingly Neal gave a harsh laugh, "I wasn't lucky silly, I don't have a heart."

Peter opened the passenger door and just stood for a moment staring at the boy who had passed out on the drive home. He didn't have a heart; how could such an innocent sleeping face not have a heart? Elizabeth certainly loved that young man, and sometimes, Peter thought that maybe he did too. He would certainly like to think that El and he held a special place in Neal's heart.

Snapping out of his train of thought, Peter bent down into the car and placed a hand cupped around Neal's cheek. Normally he would've shaken the kid's shoulder's to wake him up, but seeing how he had a severe wound in his chest, Peter decided against it. "Neal, we're here," the older man spoke delicately yet firmly enough in order to wake the sleeping consultant. But Neal barely even stirred. Peter tried again this time lightly tapping the boy's check, "Come on kid, wake up." Still Caffrey didn't regain consciousness. Peter let out a sigh; the independent eighteen year old was going to kill him for what he was about to do. He reached and unclasped Neal's seat belt, wrapped an arm around the boys back, and scooped his other arm beneath Neal's legs. With a slight struggle, Peter hoisted Neal up and out of the car and the boy unknowingly leaned into Peter resting his head on the man's chest. Peter thought his wife would love to have a picture of this.

With help from El, Peter managed to make it into the house and lay Neal gingerly on the sofa. Although the con man was out like a rock; he probably wouldn't have woken up if Peter just simply dropped him on the floor. Elizabeth brought blankets and tucked them around Neal as if he were a small child. She sat on the edge of the coach with a compassionate expression in her cerulean eyes as she ran her hand through Neal's wavy brown locks. "Oh Neal, what did you get yourself into?"

"Don't worry Hon, he's gonna be fine. Chances are, he will be ready to resume work tomorrow," Peter reassured in a light hearted tone. He gathered his wife up in his arms and gave her a kiss on the forehead before dropping down to plant one on her lips. The beautiful woman responded with wrapping her arms around the strong frame of her husband.

Later that night a groggy Neal had awoken to the delicious smell of Elizabeth cooking dinner: seared salmon over pasta with a lemon butter sauce and sundried tomatoes. Using the young man's exquisite taste as leverage, Peter figured the home cooked meal might persuade the stubborn teen to stay with the Burkes for a week while he recovered. There was much debate over whether or not Neal would be a burden; El insisted he would be a blessing. At last Neal reluctantly agreed.

The following morning, Peter had left Neal in Elizabeth's care but not before he could set out strict ground rules: no strenuous activity, no stealing, no leaving, no tricks, just resting. When Peter arrived in the office he had confidence that the kid would obey and stay out of trouble, but the lead agent had made a very grave assumption. He had made the assumption that Neal needed to be present in order to cause trouble; however, this was not at all the case. All too soon, Jones and Diana pulled their boss into the conference room in order to discuss the newest case. Immediately upon looking at the details Peter groaned and shook his head.

**Okay so yes, Sly Cooper is really a video game if you've never heard of it. It's such a good game and it seems to fit a young Neal perfectly. I will be using it in the next couple of chapters, but how I will be using it shall not be spoiled. I don't own Sly Cooper... Please review and I hope you liked the chapter!**


	7. Sly Cooper

**Okay so this chapter is pretty short, but it's just a quick transition chapter into Neal's POV and also a brief background for the next case. Something that is important to mention is that in my version of the White Collar story (which I do not own) Peter first started on Neal's case when he was 15 and then caught him two and a half years later when Neal was 17. (Although Neal swears to this day that he let Peter catch him ;) Okay now go read the chapter! And remember to review when you are done, please and thankyou :)**

"There have been three museum heists in the last two weeks and one overwhelming, common variable: the words Sly Cooper were carved into whatever place once held the piece. The first piece, The Ballet Class by Degas, was stolen from the Guggenheim Museum." Diana laid out a picture of the masterpiece on the conference table. After everyone had taken a look at the beautiful piece of art, she slid another picture of "Sly Cooper" carved into the wall behind where the piece had once hung. She continued on with her briefing, "Secondly, we have Washington Crossing the Delaware taken from the Whitney Museum of American Art." The straight shooting agent again laid out a picture of the painting followed by its empty space in the exhibit with "Sly Cooper" left behind. "And lastly, we have Cobblestone Bridge by Thomas Kinkade taken from Brooklyn Museum." She finished her report by laying the last two pictures on the table.

Jones studied the Kinkade painting and then looked up with a confused expression written in his face, "Why the Kinkade? It's not nearly worth as much as the previous two; I mean don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful painting. But compared to the first thefts, it's not historical or worth over a couple million dollars."

Peter sighed heavily, "Kinkade is one of Neal's favorite painters." What was going on here? First of all, when Peter had asked a hazy Neal if he had any crimes he hadn't confessed to, the boy had brought up Sly Cooper. And now, Sly Cooper had suddenly shown up and made away with multiple thefts one of which being from the art lover's favorite painter? Something was fishy. The instinctive agent tried to defend his accusation: Neal was busy with the Bishop case, there's no way he could've pulled the heists. But then again, that young man was the best Con man and thief Peter had ever seen. He wouldn't put it past Neal to multitask incredible assignments at the same time.

"Boss, I'm not done," Agent Barragan stated drawing Peter out of his poisonous thoughts. "This isn't the first time Sly Cooper has pulled a job." The attractive woman rolled on to pulling up news articles that seemed to be in some sort of Slavic language. "Around four years ago Sly Cooper was a big time art thief in eastern Europe and Russia. The calling name for the thief was left at roughly a dozen crime scenes as well as Cooper being a major suspect in several other cases. He makes appearances from Russia to Austria and even a couple suspected crimes in Poland. And then out of the blue, he stops. No more heists for Sly Cooper since his last one in Romania. He dropped off the grid until he resurfaced right in our own backyard. But get this Boss, in all of Sly Cooper's alleged crimes, never once was there an injury or a death, except for his last suspected job in Romania. During that heist, a security guard was beaten severely and then his neck was snapped ending his life. I think that has something to do with the end of Sly Cooper and may even lead us to the reason behind his sudden comeback."

It took a moment for the senior agent to process all of the information he had received, but he clung to one piece specifically: the murder. No matter what, Neal would never result to violence on an innocent security guard. Not even that, but the benevolent boy would never hurt anyone no matter what the circumstances were. In fact, the only person Peter could ever remember that Neal had physically hurt was Keller; and that was just self-defense. This meant that Neal couldn't have been Sly Cooper… or maybe there was a plot-twist to the last case? Peter brought his hands to massage his temples before bracing himself. Whatever Neal had gotten himself into this time, Peter would try to help him out the best he could; after all, the kid was family. "Jones, do me a favor and google Sly Cooper," Peter ordered in a voice that left no room for questioning.

Peter could tell that Diana didn't understand the point of this, as if her research wasn't enough. But faithful Jones did as he was told and pulled up the google page for Sly Cooper. The first thing to appear caught everyone off guard except for Peter. "A video game?" Jones voiced aloud what everyone was thinking. After bringing up the Wikipedia page, the agent's flabbergasted tone didn't change at all as he reported his findings, "So basically, what I'm reading is that Sly Cooper is a video game based in an animal world about a raccoon thief who steals valuable treasures. And someone took up this identity and lived it out? Sorry Peter but I'm really not quite sure what to make of this."

"Yah well what I'm thinking is that this notorious thief had a juvenile influence," Agent Burke responded with a twitch of his mouth. "If you all will excuse me for a moment, I happen to know a teenager who might shed some light on this video game thief," Peter said ironically as he stepped out of the conference room to make a phone call.

**Okay so not much going on, just some necessary information. If any of you are curious, all of the museums are real just as the paintings are, although the museums may not actually have the paintings I said were stolen. Also, if you really were to google Sly Cooper, first things that come up are about the video game series as well as the Wikipedia page. Like I said earlier, the next chapter will be in Neal's POV and will contain some painful memories and poor Neal will need someone to comfort him and watch out for the potential dangers coming up! I appreciate all of the reviews I've gotten so far and they really encourage me. Once again I am open to any suggestions or constructive criticism. **


	8. Crime and Punishment

**Sorry this chapter took me longer to upload, but in turn, it's a longer chapter :) Disclaimer and stuff: I don't own White Collar, Sly Cooper, nor Crime and Punishment. Although I wish I could write as well as Dostoevsky :/ I doubt many of you have read that book but it's really good; I would recommend it except for the fact that it's like 530 pages. **

Neal had finally drifted off to sleep after Elizabeth was through fussing over him. Do you have enough blankets? Are you too warm, too cold? Do you need anything to drink? Do you need anything at all? Poor El, the kid knew she was only worried and trying to help but all he really needed was some peace and quiet. He still loved her though; he could never stop loving her. She was the only woman left in his life to care about him and it felt good when she tried to mother him although Neal was still embarrassed about it.

Bringing him out of his peaceful slumber, Neal awoke to a buzzing in his side. The young man groaned and fished around for his cellphone before holding it up to his ear. He grunted as a hello.

"Hello to you to Neal, I take it I woke you up." Peter's voice said on the other end.

"Yah, Momma bear finally stepped down to let her cub get some rest. Although I could use some more pain pills; my chest hurts," Neal answered trying to evoke sympathy. As much as he wished Peter had taken time out of his busy work schedule to call and check up on his favorite consultant, he knew there were only two possible reasons for this call. First option was that Peter needed his expertise on a tough case. Second option was that he was in trouble. However, the intelligent boy didn't guess that it would be a little of both.

"So Neal, you will never believe how surprised I was when Sly Cooper popped up in one of my cases," Peter began but then realized that Neal was delirious when he had first given him the information. The kid may not have remembered that he had told Peter anything. So to clarify he added, "Yesterday while you were under medication, I decided to play around and ask if there were any more of your crimes I didn't know about. You said something about Sly Cooper and now low and behold Sly Cooper has pulled three heists in New York."

Neal's face fell into a hollowed expression. No. It couldn't be. He gulped before responding with such fake composure that his voice almost cracked, "That's impossible Peter."

"And why is that Neal? Here I am praying to God that you will stay out of trouble and be a good boy, and I'm proud of you too because you have been recently. But I swear Neal, if I find out you've gone and stolen something behind my back, I won't hesitate to put you back in prison." Peter's threat was empty. His mind liked to believe he could throw Neal back in prison anytime he wanted, but his heart knew there was no way he could. The Burke family loved that boy too much. But Neal didn't have to know that, and the poor teenager didn't. To Neal, that threat was very, very real.

"No, Peter I promise it wasn't me. Or Mozzie," he added. "The Sly Cooper I know is in retirement. He's far away on his own little island and he would never leave that island for any reason," Neal said unwavering. He bit his lip; Peter wouldn't send him to prison for this right? He didn't even commit those robberies… but what if Peter found out about the others? Neal needed immunity.

"Well then who is the thief carving Sly Cooper into museum walls? What are you hiding from me Neal?" Peter questioned trying to keep his voice level.

The wise young man tried to dance around his answers carefully to not leave any incriminating evidence. "He's an imposter, but I'm not sure who," the boy said slowly.

Peter took a deep breath, "Neal, listen to me, you need to tell me everything."

The young man tried to calm his racing heart down as he worked through this. "Okay, what were the paintings he stole? Maybe that could tell us something about him."

Agent Burke relayed the information, "He stole The Ballet Class by Degas, Washington Crossing the Delaware, and a Kinkade piece."

Neal's mouth dropped so far it almost hit his chest. He tried to respond to his friend but all that came out was a muffled squeak. "Neal? Neal, what's wrong?" Peter asked worriedly from the other end of the line.

The boy mumbled barely audible, "Peter, I think I'm in trouble… I know who this Sly Cooper is."

Peter released that deep breath he had taken previously, "I will protect you Neal, you can count on that. Just explain what you know."

"I need immunity. Either that or I have to use hypothetically and allegedly," the boy stated offering the senior agent a choice.

Peter's mouth twisted, of course there was more. He had already figured that Neal and Sly Cooper had gotten into some trouble together but now there seemed to be a whole new level. "Let's use hypotheticals; this is a work related call," he decided.

"Okay soooo, hypothetically I am Sly Cooper, or I was four years ago," the mischievous boy declared at last. From his end of the phone call he could hear Peter's teeth clench, but the agent stayed silent indicating for Neal to continue. The boy thought for a moment as he recalled painful memories and wasn't sure where to start. "And allegedly, I had a partner named Jorgen Kamychzk (pronounced kam-check) who was Russian," Neal paused and continued in a forced lighter tone despite his inner discomfort, "you know this is a perfectly good alias I'm burning, you should be thankful." Peter gave a grunt unwilling to joke about such a serious subject and Neal decided to suck it up and press forward. "And he met a Russian boy named Mikhail Raskolnikov."

This time Peter interrupted, "Wait a minute, Raskolnikov? Isn't that from _Crime and Punishment_ by Dostoevsky?" Of course his eccentric criminal informant would have an alias stemming from classic literature.

"Why yes it is, I'm very proud of you for recognizing it! I love that book, I've read it in English and then even reread it in Russian to see if anything was lost in translation," Neal rambled in an attempt to stall from the crushing memories he was being forced to relieve.

"I'm sorry I interrupted Neal, now please continue," Peter sighed. Why was this interrogation like pulling teeth for Neal? He needed to get to the bottom of this.

"Okay, okay, no time to appreciate good literature, I understand. So back to my story, Jorgen and I allegedly pulled a lot of great heists and he really took a liking to me and my talent. I was so young and it was hard to operate some of the jobs on my own so I used him as my front man and brawns. We were good friends Peter," Neal's voice had become weak and depressed and Peter worried about where this was going. "But one day, something snapped in Jorgen, we were almost caught but… Jorgen killed the security guard," the last sentence was hardly any more than a whisper.

Peter could hear the pain in the boy's voice and longed to be there by his side to comfort him. He could imagine a tear escaping the kid's wide blue eyes as he knew witnessing that murder had to have been gruesome. In the case file it said the security guard had been brutally beaten to death. "Neal, I promise nothing will happen to you, I promise I will protect you. But why do you think you're in trouble? How do you know this is Jorgen?"

Silence hung on Neal's end for a while before he spit everything out in a whirlwind of words, "I kinda allegedly forged all of the paintings that were stolen and they were authenticated and never reported as missing and I think Jorgen is stealing those paintings to send some kind of signal to me in order to draw me out." Neal took a quick breath, not long enough for Peter to jump in, "I witnessed his murder and then I left without saying anything I was so scared and we used to be so close but I just left him and I think he's mad and—"

"Neal calm down," Peter said gently. Neal blinked in surprise, he was sure Agent Burke would be at least a little disturbed about the paintings he forged. "Everything will be alright and we will find Jorgen. He's not gonna hurt you kid," Peter spoke in a soothing voice and Neal relaxed and smiled on the outside. He knew his friend was only trying to help, but Jorgen was smart; Neal couldn't help but feel he would find a way to get him. And now every time the scared teen closed his eyes, all he could see was Jorgen murdering the security guard. Over and over again, oh there was so much blood, so much blood.

**Thank you everyone so much for the reviews I've received and keep them coming! I really appreciate them and they make for a nice Christmas present ;) Spoiler for the next chapter will include nightmares and agent Burke to the rescue!**


	9. The Truth Behind It All

**Warning! This chapter contains intense violence, nothing above a T rating, but is still scary although it's short. This chapter also contains some Neal whumpage so be prepared! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything: I don't own Sly Cooper, I don't own White Collar, and I don't own Romania! Although I do own the story behind Mikhail Raskolnikov and Jorgen Kamychzek!**

**Thank you all so much for the reviews I received and enjoy the chapter!**

Neal sat staring at the filet in front of him. He mentally etched out the grill's char lines running along the prime piece of meat. Slowly awareness sunk in around him. "Neal, Sweetie?" a caring voice beckoned him. El maybe? Oh and there was Peter right beside her, beside Neal. The three of them were at the dinner table.

"Neal," a firm voice finally brought the kid out of his dark thoughts; it was Peter's voice. The man's hand rested on Neal's slightly shaking shoulder and the other one rubbed circle's on his back. "Bud, what's wrong?" The head full of dark waves was at last lifted to reveal stormy blue eyes meeting Peter's own worried gaze. "You've been staring at that piece of meat for an unusually long time; those grill lines are nothing like a Degas."

A few blinks washed those stormy blue eyes calm before the boy responded in a level voice, "Oh, have I? I just zoned out; thinking about the case, ya know."

"Neal, can I get you anything? Pain killers, a glass of juice—" Elizabeth asked filled with concern that something was bothering this teen that held such a large place in her heart.

A smirk and a smart response cut off her kind gesture, "A glass of wine?" the boy slipped in.

El shook her head with mixed feelings. She was aggravated that Neal was trying to put up a strong front and hide from them, but at the same time, she was so worried about her baby and wanted to just hold him in her arms and make everything better. "You can have a glass of wine in three more years. Now tell us what's wrong; you know you can tell us anything."

The teen let out a frustrated sigh, pushed his plate in front of him and sunk back into his seat forcing Peter to withdraw the hand that had been rubbing his back. "I'm not hungry anymore, just tired," the young man said seemingly brushing off El's reply.

"If you wanna talk, you know we will always listen. I will do whatever it takes to help you, but you need to shed some light on what's going on. I can't do anything in the dark," Peter said calmly trying to get something through Neal's thick skull. He felt sorry for the kid, Neal is an amazing conman, but some of the biggest cons he pulls are on himself. Peter could see it: Neal liked to pretend that he was stronger and bigger than he actually was; like he could carry all of his numerous problems on his own. But the discerning agent could see past his best friend and son's cons; he could see the boy breaking under the weight of all the traumas piled on top of him. The weight of his unmasked childhood, Kate's death, Ellen's death, his father's betrayal, and now Jorgen was coming back and all of this was too much for one kid to bear.

Pleading blue eyes looked at the couple one last time before giving in, "Okay, I'll tell you," he said quietly. "But Elizabeth, you might not want to hear; it's may get a little gruesome."

The strong woman pursed her lips and responded surely, "I can handle it, anything to help you. Let me hold some of your burden."

A moment of silence hung in the air but Peter and El sat expectantly ready for whatever their boy would tell them. And then with a shaky breath, Neal began, "After I found out the truth, that everything I'd ever known had been a lie, I forged a passport and ran away. I fled to Eastern Europe and ended up in Moscow where I assumed the identity of Mikhail Raskolnikov. As the FBI has dutifully noted, I'm fluent in many languages, one of which being Russian, so it wasn't hard to blend in and break away from Danny Brooks. I started small: picking pockets, breaking into rich houses, etcetera. Then I gained a glow in my eyes and took a fancy for bigger cons. Of course a fourteen year old con man coming to town attracted some attention, good and bad. A source of good attention came from Jorgen Kamychzk; he was kind of like my first Mozzie. He saw the potential in my talents, praised my artwork, and pulled me into a few jobs. Before I knew it, we were a dynamic team and thanks to myself, I was known as Sly Cooper."

Neal paused a moment before letting out a deep sigh and continuing, "He taught me how to use my artistic ability to forge paintings and bonds. Jorgen was the brawns behind my talent and he watched out for me. If someone bigger was picking on me, he would protect me. From him I also learned how to fight my own battles one step at a time. He genuinely cared about me and was like a father figure to me; kinda like a dark version of you Peter." At this comment Peter felt as if his heart was pierced by a double blade. He knew Neal meant nothing by it, but he couldn't dodge the stab. On one side he felt honored for the boy to have practically admitted he was a father figure, but on the other side he felt infuriated to share comparison with a murderer and a man who was out to hurt the boy he and his wife loved so dearly. But Neal couldn't see the agent's struggle; he was trapped in his own memories now. "We traveled together, pulled heists together, and enjoyed the spoils of our plunder together. Life was good, until reality caught up. During the heist in Romania we thought we were golden, everything went according to plan. Except that one of the security guards hadn't evacuated like everyone else. No, he had to go back and get a picture of his wife and child in case the fire was for real, he didn't want it to burn." At the mention of the security guard's family El saw tears begin to form in Neal's eyes. She knew the teenager would never let them spill out, but she wished they would so she could wipe them away. Her hand reached out and grabbed Neal's cold, clammy one and held it carefully in hers.

Neal smiled slightly at El's gesture and it gave him the strength to go on. "He walked in on Jorgen and me about to make off with the stolen painting. We didn't see him coming, we had our backs turned to him and he snuck up behind me and put me in a headlock with a gun on my temple. I could feel him trembling; I could hear the stutter in his voice as he threatened us. His threat was empty, he wasn't going to hurt me, but Jorgen was still scared. The man shoved the gun harder into my temple trying to reinforce his show and then something in Jorgen snapped. The next thing I knew, Jorgen's burly frame was hurled onto the guard and I was shoved aside. I sat and watched as Jorgen repeatedly pummeled the young man whose gun wasn't even in reach. The crack of his broken jaw echoed throughout the chamber, blood splattered from his mouth and spit onto me." Neal gritted his teeth and stared intensely at the table as if it were a movie screen replaying the gruesome image and this time, tears really did spew from his eyes. Peter instinctively pulled Neal into his chest and held the back of the boys head running a hand through his soft hair while tears were brought to El's eyes as well. Neal didn't have any say in the matter as the senior agent treated him like a child, but then again, the usually strong headed teen might not have even cared. It felt good to be comforted and he relished the moment in Peter and El's protective hold, but he needed to finish. Not for Peter or El, but for himself, he needed to press on and release this terror like water rushing through a dam. "The guard's ribs cracked under the force of Jorgen's knee as his strong build crushed down on the man. And then to finish him, Jorgen snapped his neck. I didn't know what to do, I couldn't move, I couldn't make a sound. But my friend's fiery eyes turned to me and I bolted."

"I stayed elsewhere in Romania for a week trying to decide whether or not to talk to Jorgen. But no one goes crazy like that just for an instant and I thought that maybe insanity had been creeping onto him for some time and I had never noticed; I was so scared and confused. I lost my best friend and I decided to throw away Mikhail with him. That's when I returned to America. Over the next year I kept some of my Eastern European contacts waiting to see if the Jorgen I knew was still alive. All I heard was that he had killed six more people since then and had turned to the less admirable side of crime." Neal shifted slightly away from Peter's embrace to look him and El in the eyes, "And know you know all about the history of Sly Cooper, Mikhail Raskolnikov and Jorgen Kamychzk."

**Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!**


	10. Trouble Comes Knocking

**Yay new chapter! I felt like this one took forever to get up and I apologize if I took long. I'd like to thank everyone that reviewed, and even though I didn't have time to send a pm to specific people that doesn't mean I'm any less appreciative! Enjoy this chapter!**

Neal sat on the Burke's couch reading a collection of Edgar Allen Poe stories and poems. The young man was always up for fine literature, although now his head was clouded with Peter's newest case that he could not help with due to the hole in his chest. That morning when Agent Burke had left for work, the persistent conman practically begged (practically but not quite, because Neal was too graceful to beg) to come into the office in order to help. It had only been three days since the teen was shot, but already it didn't bother him that much; that was as long as he didn't move. But restless Neal was sick of not moving and wanted more than anything to fling himself back into solving cases with his partner.

Shakily, he stood from the couch and made his way over to the door where his coat was hanging. If Peter wouldn't allow him to return to the bureau, then he would work with Mozzie on the streets to get Jorgen. The currently fragile teen gently eased his aching body into his nice jacket before reaching to open the door. But coincidentally, the door opened by itself to reveal none other than Peter Burke. "Hey Neal, did you come to greet me at the door? I wonder why you have your coat on?" he asked all too suspiciously. It didn't take much for the intelligent agent to realize the rash teenager was going to take matters into his own hands.

Neal grinned sheepishly but lit up once he saw Diana and Jones in tow behind the man who had just busted the kid. "Peter!" Neal feigned an over excited tone although he was actually happy that Diana and Jones were here since that could only mean that the senior agent had brought work home with him. "Hey Jones, hey Diana. I suppose you're here since Peter wants to bring me in on the case," Neal said hopefully.

Peter's mouth twisted in mixed emotions: on one side he was disappointed that he had caught the injured boy about to disobey him and leave the house, but on the other side he understood that being cooped up in the house for three days was hard; especially for someone as troublesome as Neal. As the four moved into the kitchen area Peter voiced his disappointment, "Neal, were you about to leave and go gallivanting on your own to try and solve the case?"

The suspect in question took a seat at the table and put on an innocent disposition. "Nah, I was just a little cold," he answered with a slight shiver. Peter gave a frown; of course he knew by experience that Neal was not telling the truth.

"I suppose this time I will let it slide," the lead agent said with a sigh. Over the course of a few days Neal had been shot because Peter blew his cover and now an old frenemy was hunting Neal. He really couldn't blame the kid for being on edge, but at the same time, he couldn't forgive him completely because Neal could have put himself in danger. He would talk to him later about this, but for now it was time for work and he could tell Neal was itching to get started. "Alright, now let's get started," Peter said as he and his agents spread the case files in front of Neal.

"So Neal, do you have any clue why Jorgen would have come to America? Do you know of any business associates he has here? The files we've pulled on Kamychzk hint to him being involved in the Russian mob, but we don't have anything that links him to the U.S," Diana started.

Neal shrugged, "No idea. I can imagine that he's closely related with the Russian mob though; they're just his cup of psycho tea. The only business he has in the U.S that I know about is his unfinished business with me. Though Raskolnikov dropped off the grid and Jorgen never knew me as Neal; I have no clue how he found me. Frankly, I didn't even know myself as Neal Caffrey back then."

Peter tensed at the young man's last words. Sometimes he forgot just how young Neal really was. He couldn't imagine the feeling of identity crisis Neal must have encountered as a young teen. To one day find out that your life was a lie, no one was who you thought they were, and not even your own name was real must've been truly terrifying to a thirteen year old boy.

Jones nodded his head as he processed the overwhelming turn of events that had caught all of the agents off guard. "So Caffrey, you think that Kamychzk is using these stolen paintings to draw out Raskolnikov?" he inquired.

"That's what doesn't make sense. I didn't forge those paintings as Mikhail, I forged them as Neal Caffrey," Neal said in a confused and frustrated tone. It was odd for the conman to lose composure like this and he hung his head in his hands. Was Jorgen strictly coming after Neal Caffrey and the relationship to Raskolnikov was completely coincidental? Caffrey did have a few heists overlapping with the interest of the Russian mob. Nothing seemed to fit together. It was like a jigsaw puzzle with oddly shaped pieces and Neal couldn't figure out what the picture was supposed to be; he was just left to take seemingly matching pieces and jam them together like a toddler.

Peter placed a comforting hand on Neal's shoulder, "Don't worry about it Neal, the FBI will handle this case while you rest and let your wound heal." The protective man stressed that last part as he was tempted to physically shake some sense into the reckless teen, but decided against it due to its hypocritical properties since shaking the boy would most likely cause him pain. Neal gave him an annoyed look that clearly stated that the last thing he wanted to do was rest, but decided not to start a father-vs-son-like dispute in front of Jones and Diana.

That night at dinner Peter decided to bring up Neal's attempted run-away. Elizabeth and Neal were happily chatting about all sorts of fine things when he chose to jump in during a lapse in the conversation. "So Neal, I don't want you leaving the house alone while this case is ongoing," he said in an authoritative manner.

Before the young man could offer any kind of stubborn response, El answered in his place, "Oh don't worry Peter, I will be home all day tomorrow. I'll make sure he behaves," she said light heartedly as she gave Neal a wink.

Neal flashed her a smile but groaned on the inside. The last thing he wanted to do was stay in the house. "Come on guys, as much as I love you and your home, I'm incredibly bored. I need to go to the office with you Peter and help out on the case!" he pleaded.

"No Neal, what you need is to get better. It's only been four days since you were shot."

El gave into those pleading blue eyes as she attempted to throw Neal a bone, "How 'bout this Neal, I will stop by June's and pick up some of your art supplies and a canvas? That way you can immerse yourself in art to drown out your boredom? But only if it doesn't hurt too much to paint, and you have to be completely honest with me!"

The young artists eyes lit up, "Yes please! Thank you so much El! I promise I will tell you if I'm hurting at all."

Peter smiled at his wife praising her for finding a good solution. No doubt it would hurt for Neal to raise his arm in order to paint, and there was no way he would mutter a word about the pain, but at least it kept him occupied and safe.

Sure enough the next morning Neal was busied with his painting while Elizabeth peeked over his shoulder with fascination. "Wow Neal, this is beautiful. I can't believe this isn't a photograph of me and Peter!" Neal chuckled slightly as he wasn't used to being praised for his original artwork. After Peter had left for work and El had retrieved some supplies, she had begged Neal to paint a portrait of her family. He had already finished the portion of Elizabeth and Peter sitting on the couch with a happy Satchmo in between them and just needed to finish the background. "Oh and sweetie, don't you dare forget to put yourself in the painting!" she added with a kiss on the boy's cheek.

Neal tried to mask his expression of surprise; after all he should've expected it from the big-hearted woman. There were no words to describe the feeling he felt that she still wanted him in her family even after all the trouble he had caused them. Neal's heart warmed at the thought that he had a place, a purpose, and he was loved.

"Now as much as I would love to watch you paint, I have some chores I need to do upstairs. Just yell if you need my help, and Neal Caffrey, you better ask me if you need something because I am not going to let you hurt yourself just because you didn't want to bother me," she said sternly but with care laced in every word. She added emphasis to her point by using the boy's full name just as a mother would.

After Neal gave her a convincing promise that he would ask for help if he needed something, Elizabeth went upstairs leaving Neal in the living room.

An hour later, Neal had finished his piece complete with a grinning portrait of himself sitting next to the Burkes. Elizabeth and Peter would be so proud of him. He lethargically found his way back to the sofa and laid down to take a nap. Painting had been uncomfortable and he was in a bit of pain although he didn't think it big enough to bother El. Tolerating the annoying pain had left him bone tired and he would've drifted away in a matter of seconds, however, a knock at the door snapped his eyes back open.

"I'll get it, just give me a minute!" Elizabeth called from upstairs. "Neal, don't you dare get up!" the overprotective woman added. Instead of heeding her warning, he stood to get the door anyway. He wasn't completely helpless and could offer a hand to get the door. But when he opened the door all strength left his body and he just about collapsed where he stood.

On the Burke's doorstep was a burly 6'4 Russian man with a crooked grin plastered on his face.

**Oh no! A terrible cliffy! But you know what? You readers have the power to end the suspense! The more reviews I get for a chapter, the quicker I get up the next one. So if you really wanna know what happens and you wanna know soon, then you better review! You will never know how much it means when people review!**


	11. Are We Still Friends?

**Sorry this chapter took forever to upload, but with school starting back up, college application deadline approaching, and laziness, I was unable to finish it until now. Thank you so much for all of the reviews I received, keep them coming!**

**A helpful hint for this chapter would be a formal time line- I know I've been vague about everything because of the age difference and I didn't really mention where this story begins in the actual show because a lot of the shows plots are still in my story. So here's a shaky gist:**

**Neal was 13 when Ellen decided to tell him about his family and ran away all the same (poor baby). He then fled to Russia and met Jorgen a couple months later. Months before his 15th birthday is when the incident with Jorgen happened and then he returned to the U.S. He continued his crime spree in the U.S and appeared on the FBI's radar when he was 15 (although they didn't know his real age). He was caught when he was 17 (he claims to have allowed himself to be caught in order to find Kate), though was thought to be older, and worked his deal early in his sentence and didn't have to spend much time in prison. Since then he has worked with the FBI for a year and a half and in that time span the music box and Kate's death, Ellen's death, and his Father's betrayal have happened. Though Peter wasn't framed for the murder of the senator and didn't go to jail, so the return of Hagan hasn't happened. This story takes place a few weeks after Neal's father ran. Neal's real age is only known by the select few in Peter's immediate team including Hughes (who didn't retire but probably won't appear in my story). And so now you are caught up to speed on my crazy distorted timeline of Neal's life!**

**Warning: this chapter's got a lot of hurt in it :( **

"Neal, did you get the door?! I told you not to move!" Elizabeth hollered from inside her room. "Well fine then, tell whoever it is that I will be right down." But the disobedient teen didn't have to tell him, because Jorgen had heard it all. Neal gulped down a boulder which proceeded to crush his insides; he was lost for words and he simply stood staring at the large man before him.

"So nice to see you again Mikhail, or is it Neal?" he spoke smoothly but his words were laced with devilish intent. Jorgen lifted his jacket slightly to reveal a gun tucked in his trousers. "I suggest you come with me now before that agent's wife walks in on something she doesn't need to see. I wouldn't want to have to kill her," he said casually in his thick Russian accent.

The nonviolent boy balked at how his once kindhearted friend could so easily threaten the life of an innocent woman. Not wanting Elizabeth to be put in harm's way, he immediately stepped out onto the doorstep with Jorgen and shut the door softly behind him. The taller man ushered Neal into the black sedan before hastily driving away.

When Elizabeth heard the knock at the door, she was pulling her laundry out of the drier, but she didn't want to leave and let the clothes wrinkle. El heard Neal answer the door, despite that she had told him not, and rushed the basket of the fresh clothes to her room. As soon as she had finished her task she shuffled downstairs only to find that the door was closed and neither Neal, nor the stranger at the door were in the house. Worry took over as she opened the door and peeked outside; no sign of Neal. Now her worry was turning into panic as she returned to searching around her house, "Neal?! Neal, where are you?!" she called, but no one answered.

Tears hung in her eyes as El pulled out her phone and called her husband on speed dial. How could she let this happen? She knew that Neal might possibly be in danger and yet she left him alone! Now Neal was gone and it was all her fault, and she could do nothing to get back the young man she cared so much about.

"Hon? What's wrong?" Peter said as he answered his phone. Even though he couldn't see her watery blue eyes, his love telepathy was telling him that his wife on the other end of the phone was upset. This could only be about Neal and he couldn't help but to hold his breath.

"Peter, he's gone," she breathed trying to hold back a sniffle.

Agent Burke's face fell into a whirl of concern, worry, and frustration. "El, don't worry, we will find him," he said wanting to take his own advice. "Did he run out on his own? What happened?"

"I'm so sorry Peter; I shouldn't have left him alone! I went upstairs to do some laundry and then someone knocked on the door. I told him not to get it, I didn't want him to strain himself, but of course he did anyway. And then when I came downstairs a minute later he was gone! I even looked out in the street and he was nowhere to be seen; Neal can't move that fast and I could tell he was hurting when he was painting but I let it slide. Peter, someone must have taken him!" The smart woman came to the same conclusion as her husband.

At first Peter was angry, he thought that Neal had left to go work on the case alone, but now he wished that Neal had left of his own accord, at least he would be relatively safe. Now he was sure that Jorgen had taken him.

"Calm down Honey, this isn't your fault. It's gonna be okay, we will have him back before dinner time," Peter said trying to reassure his wife as well as himself.

The next step the agent made was to pull up Neal's tracking data on his laptop. He was glad El couldn't see the expression on his face as he ended the conversation with an 'I love you' and hung up the phone. Neal's anklet had been cut; the last feed they had received was traced from outside the Burke's house.

"Lift your pant leg Mikhail," From that request Neal deduced that Jorgen knew all about his little deal with the FBI. After a moment of hesitation, he did as he was instructed and decided to be the slight bit compliant in order to improve his chances of not dying. The unwanted Russian visitor was sitting in the back of the car with Neal while a driver, probably also Russian, drove the car. The man hardly fit in the back seat with his strongly built stature but still bent down to cut Neal's tracking anklet himself.

The stunned young man still had not said a word since he stepped out of the house, so Jorgen simply read his mind and responded to his disoriented questions. "Of course you're wondering how I found you, why I'm in the U.S, and why I coaxed you. I don't mind answering your questions; after all, I would still like to think of us as friends. What do you think, Mikhail, are we still friends?" he asked in perfect English although accompanied by a Russian accent.

Neal avoided eye contact not sure of what to respond. Emotions and thoughts swirled in his mind, but one thing he knew for sure: he wasn't friends with a murderer. So he danced around his answer whipping out his silver tongue, "I was friends with the Jorgen I knew five years ago."

"Cryptic and avoiding the question, you are just like the Mikhail I knew five years ago," he said with a small smile. "I'll let the answer slide, because I remember the boy I took care of for nearly a year and a half, and he is still family." The teenager swallowed another lump in his throat as he heard the compassion in Jorgen's voice, yet at the same time, there was a hint of insanity. "I missed your smooth talent, your misdirection, your charm. Despite my affiliations with the mob, as you probably have discovered with your FBI captors, I still enjoy a good white collar con. I looked for Mikhail Raskolnikov, but you did a good job burning that identity; I couldn't find a trace. My business associates and I wanted to pull a large con, an extremely difficult one, one only the best con artist could pull off. News of Neal Caffrey reached my ears a while back: an art forger, thief, and con. He was everything Mikhail was but better and more refined. I decided to offer him a job with the promise of a large sum of money and an undeniable heist, but Caffrey was almost as slippery as Mikhail was. Imagine my surprise when an informant of mine, a corrupt law official, tells me of a young Neal Caffrey who was arrested and swindled a deal with the FBI after only being imprisoned for two months. Can you even imagine my shock when the young man in the photo stared back at me with Mikhail's older, more mature face? That's when I decided we needed a reunion."

"I arranged for business to take me to the U.S and in my spare time I searched for any trace of Mikhail or Neal. Of course you remember our shared love of art? Well when touring the Guggenheim for pleasure one day, you never cease to amaze me, but another surprise came as I studied _The Ballet Class_ that I realized was not the original, but in fact, an extremely skilled forgery. Upon further examination, I could make out the initials NC discretely hidden in a brush stroke. It hit me; if this was truly my Mikhail, he would've played a game to test his skills. I could imagine the boy forging masterpieces, stealing the originals while replacing them with his own, and then holding on to the originals to see if his forgeries were ever noticed. That game of yours led me to your other paintings and then hatched the plan to steal them as Sly Cooper. Then you can probably put together the rest from there," he finished.

Throughout the entire monologue Neal listened silently gritting his teeth all the while to hold back his emotion. Normally, as a conman, hiding his true feelings hardly took an ounce of effort, but now in his weakened state he felt suffocated and overwhelmed. Jorgen had assumed the lesser of the boy's questions, but larger ones were still looming. Questions that caused mountains of pressure hung on Neal's tongue: when did you turn into a murderer? When did human lives become disposable? Didn't you see the security guard had a family to take care of? Why have you continued to kill people? Wasn't one life enough? But all he could muster was, "Why?"

Jorgen's face distorted as he understood his old friend's single word; but the emotions he displayed were not ones of regret or sadness. "The world's not kind to softies, Mikhail; one of us had to grow up. I had a choice: let our heist be compromised and worse, you killed, or murder the untimely man. I saved your life boy. I found that life is easier with certain people out of the way; it's so rewarding to let all of your anger and suffering out on ending the life that caused the distress." At this, Neal lost it and shook his head furiously.

"No! Never. You don't get to decide to take a man's life no matter the grievance they've caused you! I won't ever be able to erase the image of you brutally beating that innocent man! He didn't deserve to die, his wife didn't deserve to lose her husband, and his daughter certainly didn't deserve to lose her father!" He spoke adamantly as he finally looked into Jorgen's eyes for the first time. They were dark and cold; no longer the honey brown eyes he remembered, but black as coal.

This time, it was Jorgen to break eye contact. He stared hard at the seat in front of him with a solemn expression on his face. "I couldn't lose you," he said softly, "not after I had already lost my wife and son." Neal remembered the story: the story of how the man's wife and child were killed, and another reason Jorgen had been so eager to take young Neal under his wing.

The young man couldn't take it. "Why did you kidnap me?" The car had arrived at a luxurious sky rise hotel that he could only imagine housed the villain for his stay in the U.S.

"To take you back of course; it'll be like the old times again, but better. We aren't naïve and inexperienced anymore," he responded with little emotion.

Neal shook his head again, but much less furious than the last time. He pitied the heartless man who sat beside him as Jorgen tried to cling to any piece of humanity he had left. "I can't Jorgen. I won't work with you again; I won't go back to crime." The boy's chest ached immensely and he wasn't sure if it was from the sadness he felt, or the bullet wound in his chest.

"As much as I wished you wouldn't refuse, I'm not giving you a choice. You'll work for me and be happy or you'll work for me and be miserable. I have the money and power to give you anything you've ever wanted, Mikhail, but if you don't take me up on the offer I will use my power to take the lives of everyone you cherish, just as my loved ones were stripped away from me, just as you slipped through my fingers."

Neal fought back the flush of hatred, anger, pity, and anguish that threatened to spill out at every seam. '_Peter, please_,' he pleaded internally. '_I need you, please save me._'

**I hope everyone enjoyed this exciting and revealing chapter! I tried to make Jorgen as tragically evil as I could while combining hatred and sympathy. Yes, his corrupt law official that he mentions was Senator Pratt. Please let me know what you guys think in a review!**


	12. More than a Criminal

**Thank you to everyone that left a review, I really appreciate it and I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. I know I left off on a rollercoaster of a chapter and this one isn't much better. Eventually the storm will calm so don't worry. The hotels mentioned in this chapter are real hotels in New York, but I have no clue where they are or anything about them so don't hold me accountable for the random crap I make up ;p **

Agent Burke raced through the White Collar division like a mad man while giving orders to various agents in order to find Neal. That kid was one of the only people in the world that could make Peter's heart pound as hard as it was right now. Jones and Diana were tracking down every little lead that linked Jorgen to New York so that they could scope out possible places he was staying at. Both agents had compiled lists of possible hotels and quickly delivered them to their boss.

"Peter, Jones and I have narrowed down the hotels to West Tower and Langham Place. West Tower was hosting a conference for a cooperation that is suspected for dealing with the Russian mob; however, Langham has their penthouse suite rented out to an unnamed customer." Diana reported.

"If that's the case, West Tower is too obvious if Kamychzk is as clever as Neal made him out to be. I'd say Langham is our best bet. Jones, you and I are going to Langham; round up a team. Diana, you take another team to West Tower and secure it too just in case my hunch is wrong." Peter responded swiftly as he slipped his arms into his suit jacket getting ready to leave. He wasn't about to waste any time with Neal's life on the line. He couldn't afford to be wrong with his choice in hotels, but he also didn't have the time to make a well-educated decision. His gut told him that he would find Neal in Langham Place.

"You got it Boss," Jones said as he went off to carry out his assigned task. Diana gave a confirming nod as she followed orders as well. Minutes later, two FBI teams were headed out to track down their missing C.I.

WCWC

"Okay Jorgen. You win, I'll go with you as long as you don't touch a single one of my friends," Neal conceded in defeat. Not a single part of him wanted to go with Jorgen, but he needed to protect Elizabeth. He knew Peter could take care of himself, and Mozzie would be difficult to find, even if it was the Russian mob looking for him. But Jorgen knew right where to find Elizabeth and she would be none the wiser; not even Peter would suspect Jorgen to go after his wife. She was vulnerable and probably extremely worried by now, and Neal wasn't about to let anything happen to the woman he secretly called 'Mom'.

A devious smile slipped across Jorgen's face, "Good choice Mikhail, I preferred not to send a man back to the house we picked you up at to harm that woman. Besides, I'm sure once you come around and forget this dull New York life you've picked up then you will enjoy our time together just as much as we used to. I can't believe you've become a rat for the FBI, someone like you can't simply live a law abiding life. We are criminals Mikhail, and that's all we'll ever be."

Jorgen's words stung at Neal like an array of arrows slicing his skin. It made the boy sick when his old friend threatened to hurt Elizabeth, and his heart ached at the thought of being only a criminal. Neal had long given in to his rush received from a con, but now he was using his cons on the good side of the law. He was using his skills to catch criminals, not to be a criminal. The young man desperately thought he could change, but what if he couldn't, what if Jorgen was right? Could he break his bad habits, or would his heart freeze over like Jorgen's. Now that he thought about it, was there even anything that kept him from snapping and going insane just as his old friend had done?

Then almost as if a wave washed over him, the answer came: yes. Peter and Elizabeth Burke were the answer to that question. Even though Peter always threatened to throw the boy back in jail, Neal finally realized the amount of faith and hope that the fatherly figure had in him. Peter Burke thought he could change. The Burke's took Neal under their wing as if he was their own son regardless of his criminal background. El and Peter treated him like the struggling teenager he really was and were willing to help him through any of his demons. Even Jones and Diana treated Neal as an equal and a coworker. To his White Collar family, he was more than a criminal.

WCWC

Elizabeth sat silently on the couch as her tear filled eyes rested on Neal's beautiful painting. Her flushed cheeks were stained with tears because after she had reported Neal's disappearance to her husband, she let everything flow. Now that her river of tears has subsided, she could more clearly study her boy's breathtaking artwork. Staring at the happy family on the canvas in front of her crushed her heart just as much as it gave her comfort. She could not peel her eyes away from Neal's last impression as she desperately awaited his return. Her mind played tricks on her as El imagined the front door opening to reveal her husband with Neal in tow.

The poor mother bear couldn't stop beating herself up for allowing the kidnapper to simply walk into their house and take her baby away. Now she could do nothing but wait as everything was placed into her husband's hands. Somehow she could feel that Peter was getting close, but at the same time, she felt as if Neal would slip through their fingers never to be seen again.

WCWC

The sound of the clock ticking pounded in Neal's head as he sat in a chair with his eyes glued to Jorgen. The man Neal hated yet pittied stood away from the boy as he talked to some associates on his cell. The young man wished that in the next couple of moments Agent Burke would bust through the door to his left and come to his rescue. But there was still no sign that help was on its way.

From Jorgen's conversation Neal could pick up a few muffled words like "ready to leave," "now," and "helicopter." The boy swallowed; if a helicopter was coming to pick them up, then the FBI blocking off the building would do no good. Peter and his squad would storm into the penthouse only to find that Neal and Jorgen had disappeared into thin air.

On a whim, Neal slid forward on his chair and began etching a pattern into the fabric of the seat cushion. It was a convenient material that could hold a message that would be overlooked by the hasty kidnapper but picked up by intuitive Peter. Neal's fingers traced an 'H' in a circle over and over again; the notorious sign for a helicopter pad. He hoped that even if Peter was late, he would get the message and rush to the roof in time to stop the helicopter.

As Jorgen turned towards Neal, the boy inconspicuously stopped his carving and now focused on reading his lips. The words he interpreted tempted him to panic yet smile at the same time: "The helicopter's here? Good, because the FBI has surrounded the building."

**So let me know what you guys think. What do you think about Jorgen as a bad guy so far? I tried to make him cruel yet pittable; I personally feel bad for him and later Neal will reveal a little more about twisted Jorgen. Did you readers catch the irony? I loved the part where Neal came to the realization that Peter thought of him as more than a criminal since in the real show, it was actually Peter who told Neal that he wasn't anything more than a criminal. It's just my way of slapping Peter in the face. Also, in the following chapter, this part of the conflict will come to a close, but should I have Jorgen be killed or arrested? **

**Preview for the next few chapters: The Sly Cooper conflict will come to a close and then the Burke's and Neal will receive a little downtime with some fluffy chapters :) But even crazier conflict lurks around the bend as Neal's mother will be coming back soon! Dun dun dun...**


End file.
